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unanimity of her freeborn sons.-What foreign power dare land an army on your territories, or what object could it picture to itself in such a step? Your millions must arise upon them to their disgrace, and annihilation! nor is it probable that any nation will ever again resort to a measure, which has been invariably unsuccessful, even when the states were in their infancy; but which now, when they are in the prime of undecayed manhood would be an act of self immolating insanity.-Au reste, should they attempt it, batteries will not stop them.-But Paris, and Brussels, and Brunswick, have shown the inutility of stone walls, and iron weapons, against the concentrated power, and unanimous will of the people!"' -"I agree with you, sir, entirely ;—but see, we have entered the inner bay, and the city is itself in view-is it not a fine coup d'œil." The Quarantine ground with its clustered dwellings, white cupolas, and noble hospitals lay on their left, glittering to the wintry sunshine,—a group of fishing boats and light schooners rocking at the pier, and a revenue cutter with her tall raking masts and rigging, as taught as the chords of some stringed instrument, her polished decks, her ready armament, and the long light pennant streaming from her truck, at her moorings in the river; on the left Gawannis bay with its woodland hills, and before them the fortified islands with their bastions, waving poplars, and the broad flags fluttering over all; the vast city looming in the distance with its tall spires, and innumerable masts, its grovehill battery at the apex of the triangle, and the long range of wharfs flanking either of the glorious streams by which it is bounded; while on the one side-the heights of Brooklyn thronged with happy dwellings, and on the other-the almost insulated knoll of Jersey City, stand like rivals of the great metropolis.

"It is indeed a country of which an American may well be proud,—a country which might inspire the coward with valor, and the feeble with a giant's strength,- -a country which deserves to be free!" The words burst from Harlande's lips,-as it were by inspiration, -as he gazed on that splendid scene, with its thousand accessaries of life and animation;-its rapid steam-boats glancing across the channel of either river, its thousands of snowy sails crossing and recrossing in every direction; its heavy shipping, some moored at the wharfs, and others safely anchored in that noble natural harbor, wherein all the fleets of the united world might float in security, were they fifty times more numerous than they are; its lighter crafts, ascending or descending the broad Hudson, which could be seen for miles in the clear frosty light, winding by Hoboken and the heights of Weehawk, till it was lost behind the stony barriers of the distant palisades. His heart, racked as it was by a thousand conflicting emotions, throbbed violently in his bosom, and for a time its ruling passion was pride!-High, noble, and disinterested pride.—Pride that such a country should, in some degree, owe its magnificence to his own England; speaking the same language, sprung from the same stock, peopled by a race possessing, in a remarkable degree, the same characteristic qualities, the burning patriotism, the love of freedom, the stubborn valor, and the humane enterprise, which he had admired in America, and adored in England. His enthusiasm visibly communicated itself to his companions, and perhaps the excitement which displayed itself in his whole air, did more to endear him to the natives of that land, in which he was about to become a sojourner for years, than the more sterling merits, which had been manifested to all, during weeks of that familiarity

which on ship-board is as unavoidable as it is delightful. To this feeling however, as to all others of intense gratification, there was ere long a chilling reaction.--Sail after sail was furled, till under her maintop-sail and jib she came to her moorings in the East River, and a throng of anxious friends rolled in upon her decks, to greet all but him. Then it was, that the recollection of his distant home, the mother, the sister, from whose arms he had been so abruptly torn, rushed upon his sickening spirit. Every trifling incident of that parting scene was present to his mind, as clearly as the sights that were passing before his eyes; every word, to which he had lent his wounded soul, was ringing in his ear to the exclusion of every nearer sound. And, worse than all, every slight offence, every hasty remark, every unkind thought, by which he might for an instant have wounded those beloved ones, whom he never again expected to behold, rose up in judgment and condemnation against him! Oh, how passing bitter, is that consciousness of wrong which we have done, and for which we can never, never atone!--How doubly do the coals of fire, which we have heaped in very wantonness upon the heads of those, whom even at that very time we loved beyond our own lives,-how do they return to blight us with the memory of that forgiveness, which we sought not when we had the power, and which, now that we possess the will, we may forever seek in vain. Few indeed were the faults of such a nature which could be justly charged against the generous disposition of Lindley, but it is ever the part of this morbid self-condemnation to exaggerate; and though, in truth, unconscious of all real wrong, it was with a humbled spirit, and a heart filled even to bursting with penitential sorrow, that he collected a portion of his baggage, and set his foot, for the first time, on the soil of America.

IMITATIONS OF

FILICAJA'S SONNETS ON ITALY.

SONNET I.

ITALIA-Oh, Italia! to whom fate

Has given the boon of beauty,-on thy brow
The fatal guerdon of thy sorrows now

Is graved and borre,—but pity is too late!

Oh! had kind Heaven but marked thee out for hate,-
Given fewer charms,—or strength to meet the blow!
Then less admired-or more terrific, thou

Hadst found repose in thy more humble state!—
Then from the stormy Alps thou hadst not seen
Arm'd hordes descend,-nor had the blood-stained wave
Of thine own Po,-by foes of haughty mien
Crimson'd with slaughter,-been thy childrens' grave,-
Nor foreign swords had thy protection been!-
Conquering or conquered-thou of each the slave!

W.

SONNET II.

WHERE is thy might, Italia?-Of thy foes

Whom dost thou serve? The open hostile steel,
And treacherous friendship thou alike must feel-
Each is thy foe,—and each his victim knows
In thee enslaved.—If in thy bosom glows

One spark of ancient fire,-Oh! canst thou kneel,
And calmly hug thy servitude,-and heal
The wounds of honor? This thy conflict's close?
Thus dost thou pay the debt of loyalty?

And thus redeem thy faith? Go then-dream on-
Forget thy pristine glory! Let it be

A vision of the past! Sleep midst the groan
Of falling empires, till the sword on thee
Shall light, and even thy soulless life is gone.

SONNET III.

THY days have been like summer,—but they pass
Like summer suns away,-nor canst thou see
The horrors destiny prepares for thee;-
As the false Nile that, smooth as burnished glass,
Its source unseen, conceals the strength it has,

Till the pent billow bursts upon the lea,-
Thus, sweeping, whelming all with misery,
Thy swift advancing waves shall come at last.-
Thus-like the tempest by thick darkness led,
That rides the winds and swells the blackening wave,-
The storm will burst on thy devoted head!—
Trust not to aid, that treacherous fancy gave,
Nor hope to hold a part,-thy fall is sped
If thou divide ;--and all thou darest not save!

SONNET IV.

DISCORD is death, unhappy land, for thee!--
Nor is it still the least of all thy woes,

That thy frail strength forbids thee to oppose,
While yet that strength may tempt thine enemy
To deeds of violence !-Thou wilt not yield!

Thou canst not struggle!-Like the hapless bird, Whose trembling pinions by the bleak winds stirred, Are helplessly suspended in the field

Of middle air;-so thou,-a mockery

To every passing tempest,―rudely tossed
By bitter blasts,-canst only breathe a sigh
For glory rifled, and for bright hopes crossed!
Knowing that fear and hope alike defy

Thy feebleness,--for thou in both art lost.

E. F. E.

MISCELLANEOUS NOTICES

OF

LITERATURE, FINE ARTS, SCIENCES, THE DRAMA, &c.

AMERICAN ACADEMY OF THE FINE ARTS.-We have experienced much gratification in our visits to the Barclay-street Academy. It is an institution in every way worthy of our city, and is, we believe, destined to be the germ, from whence great things may hereafter be expected. Possessing rooms calculated in size, coloring, and light for the best possible display of paintings; possessing a small but well selected collection of casts from the best antiques; and possessing the great advantage afforded by a president, no less admirable as an artist, than respectable as a man; it holds-as it necessarily must do -the highest place among the liberal institutions of our land. The exhibition of 1833 is decidedly superior to that of the preceding year, and we shall hereafter have much pleasure in testifying to the improvement of some favorites of ours, who are making rapid steps to excellence, and who will, we venture to predict, ere many years have elapsed, stand deservedly high in their profession. Before entering into the merits of particular pictures, we have a few words to say regarding this, and the rival exhibition; and in truth it is deeply to be regretted, that it should be destined to our times, and to our city, to afford an illustration to the Roman satirist's,

"Genus irritabile vatum," proving that the professors of the pen, are in no wise superior to their brothers of the brush, in the susceptibility of their natures. Without entering into the merits of the case, we shall simply state that we consider it highly injurious to the advancement of the arts, that there should be a division among those, who ought to be most united, leading to animosity and bitterness of spirit, and venting itself in critiques equally unjust and illiberal. Taking no share in the disputes of these touchy geniuses, we propose to consider the merits of each picture in detail, commencing with the elder, and ending with the younger sister.

No. 1. Full length portrait of Benjamin West. The venerable president is represented, as delivering his last lecture to the Royal Academy, on the theory of Light and Color. In illustration of the subject, the cartoon of the "Death of Ananias" from Raphael, is placed on the easel. Painted for the American Academy of Fine Arts

by Sir Thomas Lawrence, P. R. A. To say anything in praise of this well known and splendid picture would be in us superfluous, and impertinent. One VOL. I.

thing we would point out to many of our artists, ---the gravity and harmony to be observed in the coloring, of what some have deemed, though we think undeservedly, the masterpiece of the greatest portrait painter since the days of Sir Joshua. We have frequently observed, in passing round the apartment, the gaiety and flashiness of tints, displayed in the back grounds of many otherwise well executed pictures, and would suggest to the authors that they destroy the effect of their labors, and produce a glaring and gaudy appearance, equally inconsistent with truth or nature.

No. 2. St. John the Baptist---lent by D. Coit, Esq.

A clever old picture, though by no means a chef d'œuvre, we shall have occasion hereafter to notice several paintings of far greater worth, owned by the same gentleman.

No. 3. Americus Vespucius. Copied No. 4. Christopher Columbus. from pictures by Parmegiano, in the Royal Gallery at Naples. Lent by H. W. M'Cracken, Esq.

Curious as portraits, and probably authentic ones, of illustrious men, but otherwise unimportant.

No. 5. Landscape and Cattle---a good copy from P. Potter or A. Vandevelde, we are inclined to think the former.---J. W. Hope.

No. 6. Landscape.—Willis.

A very well painted, and well imagined sketch of English scenery; you can almost walk in and out among the stems of the old trees. This young man promises to do well, and we hope will meet the encouragement he merits.

No. 7. Portrait of an Officer of U. S. Engineer corps.-Waldo and Jewett.

The figure and head are good-the back ground out of keeping, and the color of the curtain neither rich nor light.

No. 8. Gipsey Mother. By a lady

amateur.

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No. 13. Portraits of Children.--Shegog. Slight and sketchy but very clever, close imitation from Lawrence.

No. 14. Landscape in water colors.Haverell.

a

No. 15. Ichabod Crane. With a long quotation from the Sketch Book.---B. Thorp.

A bad picture, but, we are told, the work of a boy; it is much to be regretted, that we cannot be content to learn before we attempt to shine; the young gentleman in question may succeed some ten or twelve years hence, but he must learn-firstdrawing and perspective-then chiaro scuro--then coloring--and then if he is patient, and fortunate, he may do something.

No. 16. Still Life and Animals.-Lent by Messrs. Nunn's & Co.

No. 17. Portrait of a Gentleman.--J. Frothingham.

cause we have met with a critique on this
beautiful production of American art, dic-
tated we fear rather by the jealous envy of
a rival Painter, than by the impartial spirit
of an unbiased observer.---The Valley of
Wyoming deserves a place in any collec-
tion either on this, or the other side of the
Atlantic---and Mr. Ward, if he continue to
improve as he has done hitherto, bids fair to
rank among the first artists of either hemis-
phere.

No. 22. Landscape, with a Girl and Dog.
-T. C. Ward.

A pretty little scrap---showing much of the same taste which predominates in the last number. The figures are not however equal to the scenery.

No. 23. A Calm.--- T. Birch.

Rather hard in the outline, and deficient in the breadth of shadows and richness of color in the foreground, but a pleasing and

May be good as a portrait-but as a pic- well executed piece. ture is not of much importance.

No. 24. Landscape, after Wilson.--

No. 18. View on the Mohawk.-J. V. Richardson. Diaey.

Hangs very high up-but appears to be possessed of some merit, although too uniformly brown.-Nature has no such tints as these, spread equally over land, sky, wood, and water.

No. 19. Portrait of a Gentleman.-F. R. Spencer.

All the paintings of this artist are hard and cold, in outline and coloring; though we understand that as likenesses they receive much commendation.

No. 20. Portrait of a Gentleman.-Waldo and Jewett.

Very like, and moreover a very harmonious picture.

No. 21. Landscape; the Valley of Wyoming.--Lent by Mr. Clover.---J. C. Ward. *Whose lofty verdure overlooked the lawn, And waters to their resting place serene, Came freshening and reflecting all the

Scene:

A mirror in the depth of flowery shelves,
So sweet a spot of earth, you might, I

ween,

Have guessed some congregation of young elves,

To sport by summer moons, had framed it for themselves.

Gertrude of Wyoming, Part II. Canto I. A lovely, cool, natural, and refreshing picture. We can hardly find a fault with it,--if any, the remote distance is a little too blue---but this is a trifle, not to be thought of, in such a work as the one before us---and indeed we have many a time beheld effects in the marvellous beauties of nature, which would have been pronounced absurdly unnatural on canvas. This is decidedly the gem of the Academy, and we have the more pleasure in speaking of its merits, for two reasons!---Firstly---because the works of the same gentleman, exhibited last year, were in some degree impaired by an indistinctness, or woolliness of the distance, which has entirely vanished from those of the present year! Secondly---be

Why does not Mr. Richardson paint from his own sketch book, rather than copy Wilson ?---He has considerable ease of touch, and not a little force; but his coloring is false and exaggerated.

No. 25. Portrait of a Gentleman.--- G. W. Twibill.

No. 26. Portrait of a Lady.---F. R. Spencer.

Very gaudily and ill colored---the flesh is cold, the curtain glaring, and the effect of the whole patchy.---It is singular how few even of the best painters avoid this fault in their representations of females; even that giant Lawrence was not wholly free from it.

No. 27. Portrait of a Gentleman.---Hill

yer.

No. 28. Landscape, Cattskill Falls.--T. C. Ward.

A lovely picture.---If there be any fault, it is the brilliant light in the sky, which interferes with the principal gleam upon the pitch of the falls. Mr. Ward should pay a little more attention to his animals---no details, however small, are beneath the notice of an artist; and the wolf at the edge of the basin is by no means so good as it might be. No. 29. Portraits.--- Titian.

Certainly not Titian, nor good, except the child's figure, which has merit.

He cast up

No. 30. The Money Diggers.---Scarcely had he uttered the words when a sound from above caught his ear. his eyes and lo! by the expiring light of the fire, he beheld just over the disk of the rock, what appeared to be the grim visage of the drowned buccaneer, grinning hideously down upon him, &c. &c. Vide Tales of a Traveller.-T. Quidor.

Here again we have much pleasure in noticing a very palpable improvement, since we last met with this promising young artist.---Last year we had a Bold Dragoon of his, also from the works of Washington Irving; which, though raw and somewhat deficient in drawing, nevertheless gave us

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